Wales: Bringing back the wild

“Croeso Cymru!”
“Welcome to Wales!”

Eric and I are attending the Society of American Travel Writer’s annual
convention, in Cardiff, the capital of Wales. The annual five-day event
introduces members to different countries of the world and conference organizers
always arrange a series of pre- and post-trips of several days duration. These
four-day events focus on a particular aspect of the country.

We enjoyed a pre-conference trip called “Take a Hike,” which saw us
hiking and horseback riding through some of the most attractive Welsh farm and
park lands you could imagine.

Our guide, Alun Price, works for the Community Lands Association of Wales.
Dedicated to the conservation of wild lands in this country, a large part of
Alun’s work is to negotiate deals with farmers to ensure that wild habitats
are preserved.

It is through such negotiations that “exclosures” have been erected on
the otherwise barren-looking landscape surrounding Wales’ highest peak,
Snowdon (1,085 m elevation). Despite the mountain being the epicentre of
Snowdonia, the 2,171 square-kilometre National Park, its slopes are grazed by
hundreds (if not thousands) of sheep.

They are everywhere: the fluffy white creatures remain a mainstay of this
country’s economy, and, unlike Canadian national parks, Welsh park lands are
still mostly owned by private landowners. Parks exist, but the interests of the
landowners seem to have prevailed here: grazing rights allow sheep, for
instance, to range freely over Snowdonia’s mountains and valleys. As cute and
picturesque as they are, the result is that the hills and valleys of this
beautiful park are denuded of anything like “natural” habitat.

There are no shrubs, very little heather: instead, the visitor sees a hilly
landscape of grasses, punctuated by fluffy white dots… sheep.

This reality means that park rangers must have excellent negotiating skills,
for if wildlife such as the red-tailed kite (a hawk-like bird that was almost
wiped out a few years ago) are to have any future at all, vegetation must be
allowed to re-establish itself.

Park Ranger Hywel Roberts pointed to a few “exclosures,” fenced-off plots
that represent tiny victories. Each small patch is protected from sheep by the
fence, so that biologists can observe what types of plants start to grow once
the land is protected from grazing.

“Why are the plots so small?,” asked one of my writer-colleagues. Our
guide responded that their size and small number indicate the challenges that
parks people face while dealing with the landowners. When sheep are their
economic livelihood, farmers don’t easily relinquish their grazing rights.

And this is understandable, isn’t it? We face the same types of dilemmas of
habitat loss in Canada, for as urban expansion continues, agriculture is
squeezed and, as we know all too well, habitat for wild creatures and vegetation
is the first to suffer.

Another loss to the landscape happened perhaps thousands of years ago, as the
ancient peoples here cleared hilltops for their forts. The valleys, say Mr.
Price, were too densely wooded and wild, so it was the tops of hills where the
first peoples, 4,000 years ago, started building their villages and forts.

Today, the woods here in Wales are all managed. In fact, there’s not really
much – if any – technically “natural” landscape that exists here. All
has been deeply affected by people over thousands of years.

The picturesque wide valleys where tidy-looking fields are defined by wide
hedges or stone fences don’t reflect anything close to a “pristine, natural”
aspect.

Instead, the landscape reflects agrarian and industrial activity that has
taken place over thousands of years.

Take the hedgerows for example. These are signatures of the countryside of
the United Kingdom, being a type of “natural” fencing that has been used
effectively for hundreds and hundreds of years.

But in the late 1960s through 1970s, many hedges were torn out and burned.
Why? Because of mechanization and “economies of scale” in farming. In order
to work the land economically, farmers had to get their new, big machines onto
their plots… and rid themselves of the common 3-4 acre plots that hitherto had
been ploughed by horses.

So they ripped out the hedges.

In so doing, they eliminated the habitat of many of Britain’s wild
creatures. Insects, birds, animals all suffered and started declining in
alarming numbers.

And we’re not just talking about a tiny little hedge. Hedges here in Wales
are sometimes almost two metres wide, with ancient-looking, gnarled “trees”
such as holly and hawthorne whose trunks have been “plaithed” for hundreds
of years.

What is plaithing? It’s a process whereby a tree’s trunk is
systematically split and trained to grow in two or more directions. As we rode
horses through the country lanes, we had an excellent opportunity to observe
plaithing up close: the dense hedges were well over a metre in width and the
base of the shrubby trees were thick, all bent in a symmetrical fashion rather
like espalier trees.

Mr. Price had told us that the hedgerows were avenues for wildlife, but I was
surprised to see how active an “animal highway” was hidden in the hedgerows.
There were burrows, too, perhaps of rabbits, or possibly of badgers.

And everywhere, as we strolled or rode our horses alongside hedgerows,
birdsong filled the air.

Throughout Britain, there has been a national campaign to replant hedgerows.
Happily, farmers have responded to the call and this type of wildlife habitat is
being restored.

As our “Take a Hike” pre-trip tour came to a close, we were heading
towards Cardiff from the southwest seaside: this, Mr. Price told us, is the
red-tailed kite’s habitat. “Keep your eyes peeled for a hawk-like bird with
its characteristically V-shaped tail.”

“There’s one!,” exclaimed Eric.

The kite swept past our bus, giving us a glorious glimpse of how conservation
and restoration of wild habitat can allow species to share our world.